


Stretching Out

by Raufnir



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Comfort, Complete, Exhaustion, Fluff, Gladio pining, Hurt, M/M, Night Terrors, Noct's a brat, Pining, Stretching, but he's got a sweet heart, flexible Noctis, gladio x noctis, gladnoct - Freeform, light fluff, no beta we die like men, noct suffers from exhaustion, practically unedited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-12 23:59:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10502181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raufnir/pseuds/Raufnir
Summary: Prompt – flexible Noctis. I saw him doing a back handspring to get out of the way of something, and he’s lean and lanky so perhaps he's rather flexible. A nice excuse for GladNoct.Noctis hides how flexible he is from Gladio, gets super exhausted with recurring night terrors in one chapter, and then manages to surprise Gladio in the last. It was gonna be smut and turned into a 3 chapter, 11,000+ word story… *shrugs*





	1. Chapter 1

The swords clashed together making the training room ring. The force shot all the way down Noctis’ arms, down his bones, and he felt his shoulders tense up to counter the shock.

“Relax,” Gladio growled.

“Easy for you to say, big guy,” the young prince grunted as he pushed hard against the training sword which Gladio was pushing slowly closer to his head with the slow, inexorable force of a glacier. “You try relaxing when you're my size and you've got a damned dual horn bearing down on you…”

Gladio's grin was wicked, and with a quick shove, the prince went flying. The huge older boy clearly expected Noctis to land heavily on his arse, but was taken aback when the prince spun away lightly like a doe and sank down to crouch like a small cat ready to pounce again.

"Fancy footwork won't detract from shitty sword skills, highness," he grumbled. Noctis' little laugh ground his gears and he launched a high attack at him, which the prince dodged easily.

"Stop running away and hit me!" he snarled.

Again, Noctis' laugh seemed to enrage the big bull of a boy, but as Gladio flew at him, Noct fainted right, fainted left, and then attacked right, his slender training sword lancing through the air, coming to rest on the side of Gladio's thick neck, right over his pounding pulse. "Ha!" Noct grinned in triumph, but Gladio brought the pommel of his sword swinging up and caught the prince in the sternum, deliberately winding him.

He staggered backwards and this time did fall hard, gasping. "Don't get cocky," Gladio muttered as he stared down at the prince who sat with his lean legs splayed and one hand rubbing the place where his ribs met. "Hey," he said, kneeling down next to him, concern beginning to seep, hand in hand with a twinge of guilt, into his amber eyes. "Princess?"

"That was... a bit much... don't..." he broke off with a wheezy cough, "Don't you think?"

"Maybe," Gladio admitted, holding out his hand. "But you were being a brat."

"No," I said, ignoring the hand and levering himself stiffly to his feet. "For _once_ I was doing well against you, and you didn't like it."

A deep, booming laugh rang round the room and both boys turned to see Gladio's father standing beside King Regis in the doorway. The two men exchanged looks with glittering eyes and regarded the boys. Gladio, all bulky six foot of awkward nineteen year old, flushed a rather delicate and fetching pink and looked at the floor. Clarus barked another laugh and the king chuckled fondly.

“I’m going to stretch,” Noctis said. “Dad, did you want something?”

“I came to see how your training is going,” the king said proudly, leaning on his walking cane. “Gladio,” he said as he turned his grey-green gaze on him, “You’ve been doing a mighty fine job.”

Gladio’s pink cheeks darkened to a furious red for a moment and then he hitched a lopsided smirk to hide it, and bowed. “Thank you, majesty.” Clarus only chuckled fondly at his son’s discomfort.

“You’ve got your work cut out for you with that one, I know,” Regis grinned. He turned on his heel and called after Noctis, “Make sure you are on time for your tutor session with Ignis after lunch!”

“Yeah,” Noctis grumbled from a corner of the room.

The king and his shield left, and Gladio turned around. Geez, that boy was flexible. He’d finished stretching his lean arms above and behind his head, and now, he was bent in two, palms flat on the floor, skinny arse in the air. His legs were long, compared to the rest of him, and lean and straight up and down, and Gladio felt an unexpected twinge looking at him.

“Help me stretch,” Noctis said without looking at him. It was almost a question, and half a command, and Gladio found himself compelled to obey.

He swallowed. “Sure.”

Noct got down on the ground and spread his legs out in front of him. Splaying them apart and keeping them straight, he leaned first over his left leg and once he’d held himself there for a little while, said, “Ok,” which was the signal for Gladio to put his hands on his lower back and gently ease him forward. The prince gave the tiniest flinch when Gladio connected with him, the slightest stiffening in his spine, but there was no command to stop, so he didn’t. With his huge hands on the prince’s damp warm back, the prince bending low so that his chest actually touched his own thigh, Gladio began to feel a little warm under the collar, but he rejected the feeling. He was Noctis’ shield, nothing more. A tool to train him and to guard him. “Hey,” Noctis barked, bashing his hand on the floor to the side of his leg like he was trying to tap out of a wrestling match.

“What? Sorry,” Gladio flustered, releasing the pressure on Noctis’ back in an instant.

Noctis began to laugh again and leaned down over his right leg. “Try not to zone out this time, ok? I’m flexible, but I’m not _that_ flexible.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

After a while the sixteen year old prince sighed and said, “Ok, that’s enough stretching. I’m gonna hit the showers, and then go learn some stuff with Iggy.” The way he said it made Gladio laugh, like Noctis was five years old again, and Noct cracked a smile and punched him affectionately on the shoulder as they left for the showers. “There we go,” the prince smiled. “You had me worried for a minute there with that serious face of yours. Brooding doesn’t suit you, Gladio.”

The tall shield barked a rough laugh and rolled his shoulders out, cracking his neck. “You don’t need to worry about me, highness.”

Noctis went perfectly still for a moment in the doorway to his private changing room, a white hand pausing on the doorframe. He was so still it was eerie. His pale face had a healthy glow from training, but his eyes… by the Six, his eyes were truly something else and they locked Gladio’s big boots in place like quicksand. “Of course I do, Gladio,” he said, his tenor voice even and serious. “You more than anyone.”

And then he disappeared inside and close the sliding door behind him, leaving Gladio standing there, struck dumb and stupid. What the hell had he meant by that?

The next few training sessions were much the same. Noctis would stumble in in the morning, looking like he’d been dragged backwards through a hedge to get there, looking barely evolved enough to be classified a _homo sapiens_ , would complain and suffer his way through the training routine, passing banter where his stinging pride called for it, and then he’d do a couple of delicious stretches, shower and leave. Most of it, however, was done in silence.

Eventually after two weeks of this, Gladio grabbed him by the arm during an unarmed combat exercise and flipped him easily over onto his back, pinning his chest in place with his knee. Noctis, grumblingly, tapped out, but while Gladio released him enough that he could breathe, he growled, “What’s up with you? You’ve been off colour for weeks.”

“I’m fine,” Noctis grunted, sweat rolling down into his brows.

"Noct," Gladio growled, taking hold of his upper arm in a gentle grip.

“Get off me, you big brute,” he grumbled, executing a perfect self-defence release that caught Gladio off guard. It was as Noctis wiped his eyes, the whites pink and stinging where sweat had dripped into them, that Gladio saw the huge dark circles beneath them.

“You’re not sleeping, are you?” he said.

“I told you to get off me,” Noctis snarled, a clear warning ringing in his voice.

“Fine,” he said, standing and offering Noctis a hand up. He was shocked when the prince not only took the offered help, but when he saw how much his fingers trembled. “You’re not taking care of yourself properly.”

“I’m fine,” he said, slouching towards the doors.

“Hey!” Gladio called after him. “We’re not done here, your highness. You haven’t stretched. You’ll be stiff as the old Archaean if you don’t –”

“I’ll stretch on my own,” he said as he left the room.

Gladio swore and dropped to the ground, his three sets of fifty push-ups made even easier since they were fuelled by his frustration.

As evening cloaked itself around the palace and the lights of Insomnia flickered to life outside, Gladio stalked the halls towards Noctis’ chamber. It had been a while since he’d been posted to Noctis’ room because he’d been training the other Crownsguard recruits on his father’s orders, side-lining his duties as shield to Noctis. It had been Ignis who had guarded the prince in his chambers, but he was due for a short leave of absence and thus Gladio took over once more.

He passed the Crownsguards who stood on either side of the door to the prince’s set of rooms, nodding as they saluted him, and pushed his way into the living room that was more of a library. A couple of low futons and sofas littered the huge space, with a fireplace to his right, and, on the wall opposite, two enormous windows let the neon lights from Insomnia pour into the dimly lit room. Bookshelves ran floor to ceiling on every other available section of wall. Two doors led off the wall facing him, and another to the left of the fireplace. The one directly in front of him was the prince’s bedroom. The one next door was much smaller, and had an adjoining door. This was the room where the prince’s guard slept, whoever it happened to be. Tonight, it would be Gladio.

His scarred hand paused on Noct’s door as he reached up to push it open and heard raised voices from within. Ignis it seemed was reprimanding his prince. Again.

“I’m just leaving it here, Noctis,” he said in a sternly maternal tone. “You really should take some tonight. You look ragged. Even your father said so.”

“I’m not taking that shit again, Iggy,” he said. “You know what I’m like during the day anyway – I’m dozy enough as it is. When I take those, I’m out of it. And I’m not missing training with Gladio.”

Ignis seemed to soften a bit. “You enjoy your sessions with him, don’t you?”

“Beats sitting round the boardroom table listening to you old farts droning on for hours,” he said, sounding more like a petulant child than a prince. “But yeah, I do enjoy them. He doesn’t baby me.”

Ignis barked a rare laugh and said, “I’m only eighteen, Noctis. I know my hair’s grey, but still…” he actually sounded a bit put out. “Fine, if you don’t want to take the pills, don’t, but we have to find _something_ to stop these night terrors.”

Night terrors? Gladio knocked and poked his head around the door. “Just checking in,” he said. “I’ll be next door if you need me.”

He tried not to look too closely at the prince, but he did look awful, pale and a bit sweaty.

With his big black boots abandoned in the corner, he lay back on the small, single bed and rolled his eyes as it groaned under his weight. He was not built for this bed. He was built for a big one like Noctis’ next door. That bed was so big you could lose yourself in it. He felt a heat pooling in his groin at the thought of Noctis’ bed and a cold sweat broke across his forehead. That kind of thing was not what a member of the Crownsguard should be thinking about, let alone the prince’s shield. He started at a knock at the door and sat up sharply, leaning forward to cover any incriminating evidence below his belt.

The tall, slender figure of Ignis appeared in the doorway and he relaxed a little bit. Not enough to lean back though.

“Gladio,” the strategist said, his perfect, crisp accent lending a degree of delicacy to his name. “The prince shouldn’t need to go out again tonight, but he’s been restless, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he fancies stretching his legs later.”

The shield nodded but remained quiet for a moment.

Ignis sighed, and said, “I assume you heard our little discussion…?”

“Yeah.”

Long, gloved fingers pushed his glasses back up his nose and he sighed.

“How long has he had the night terrors?” Gladio asked. “I know he’s looked awful for weeks… I just thought he wasn’t enjoying training or something.”

Ignis’ smile was fond but tinged with worry. “He loves training with you,” he said. “He always comes back so calm. He even smiles. I swear when you schedule them for the morning, they're the only thing he’ll get out of bed willingly for.” Gladio’s surprise must have shown on his face, because Ignis laughed again, a low, fruity kind of rumble, and said, “You’ve only seen one side of him in the training arena. He’s a different animal up here in the palace.”

Gladio rubbed the stubby beard he’d grown years ago simply because he hadn’t bothered to shave it off, and sighed. “Father was talking to me this morning, and I guess he’ll have spoken to you already about it, but he and the king want me to start to take over from Cor as Noct’s bodyguard more now.”

The news was greeted with a wry smile. “You’ll learn all the joys of three hour long council meetings about taxation and diplomacy. And those are sometimes just the briefings…”

He scratched the back of his head and sighed. “All in the name of duty.” He put his hand down on the bed and added, “Listen, about the night terrors…?”

“He’ll wake any number of times in the night, screaming, sweating, shaking… won’t know where he is, who I am, what’s happened… takes him ages for his heartrate to return to normal, and some nights he just gets up and doesn’t go back to bed.”

“Shit,” Gladio swore.

Ignis took his glasses off and cleaned the lenses on a special cloth he seemed to pull out of nowhere before returning them to his face. “Indeed. Well, I’m going to sign out now. Call me if you need anything though. I’ll have my phone on.”

“Has he eaten?”

“A meal was prepared for him, but he didn’t eat much.”

“He’s looking kinda scrawny these days,” Gladio mused.

“He’s stopped eating even his favourite meals.”

“Why?”

“He’s down about something, but I can’t get it out of him.” Ignis looked distraught and betrayed all at once. “Perhaps it’s the night terrors. He won’t talk to me about what he sees when they strike him.”

There was a crash from the other room and both men were on their feet and sprinting next door in a split second. “Noct!” Ignis called when he saw the figure of the prince splayed out on the floor, the glass pitcher he’d been holding to pour himself a glass of water had shattered around him, liquid darkening the patterned silk rug that stretched languorously beside the bed.

Gladio’s quick eyes went to it. “Don’t touch the water,” he warned Ignis.

“It isn’t poison,” Ignis said gravely.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” The advisor didn’t look nearly as agitated as Gladio felt he should be.

“It’s exhaustion. Pick him up and get him on the bed.”

The prince was shockingly light as Gladio scooped him up and set him down on top of the white duvet. His black shirt was damp from the spilled water and there was a small cut on his forearm. Blood trickled down it while Gladio held it off the sheets until Ignis dabbed it with a tissue and stuck a plaster over it. “It isn’t deep,” he said.

Gladio couldn’t let go of the prince’s arm. The bones of his wrist were exquisitely delicate, the way his hand flopped gently, the tiny bones like a bird’s wing, the fingers elegant and pale. If he hadn’t had callouses from sword practice on his palms, as well as a number of small, barely visible scars on the backs, they might have been called feminine, but the fingers had slightly pronounced knuckles, and the tips were squarer and stronger than a lady’s. He was beautiful, even when he was vulnerable and fragile and broken.

“Gladio?” Ignis said with a smile. “You can let him go now. He’ll be alright.”

Gladio looked up as Ignis swept a longer strand of Noctis’ dark hair out of his eyes. The prince’s brows twitched and the lids flickered to reveal his enormously deep blue eyes. “Hey there, princess,” Gladio grinned. “Welcome back.”

“Wha-?” he asked blearily.

Ignis, standing beside the bed while Gladio sat close to Noctis, said, “You collapsed again, highness.”

“Again?” Gladio growled at Ignis. “This has happened before?”

“This morning,” Ignis explained gently.

“Before or after training?”

“Before,” Ignis said. “He got out of the shower and fainted.”

“You make me sound like a little girl,” Noctis mumbled resentfully, trying to shuffle.

Ignis suddenly snapped. “And you _behave_ like one sometimes. You _won’t_ heed our advice, you _won’t_ listen to us, and you run yourself into the ground… We’re here to advise and protect you, highness. We can’t do that if you won’t _listen_.”

Noctis pouted, sighed, and closed his eyes, leaning his head back into the pillow where Gladio had set him down.

Ignis stood with a sharp exhale of disgust through his nose and said, “Gladio, I give up. I’m going to clean this mess up and then I’ll leave him to you.”

Gladio sighed and let Ignis leave the room. “I’m not gonna lecture you, Noct,” he said in a low, gravelly voice. He stood as well, but before he left he put his big hand gently over Noctis’ shin and gave him a gentle squeeze. “He’s only cross ’coz he cares. We all care for you.” He stumped towards the door and added. “I’ll be next door if you need me.”

“Gladio?” The prince’s voice was barely audible, barely more than a plaintive whisper.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me til you’re better, highness…” and he closed the door.

He heard Ignis return to sweep up the shattered glass, and he heard the low rumble of voices from the other room, but didn’t intrude. The feeling of the prince’s insubstantial weight in his arms had left him shaken. He knew he was just a kid really, only sixteen, and he had always been lean, but now he was bordering on skinny.

Trying not to intrude on the prince’s evening, figuring that Ignis would have ordered him to bed or something, he drew out a book from his rucksack and opened it to the page he’d folded down. A while later, he heard pacing from the room next door and looked at the little alarm clock on the bedside table. It was half eight.

After some time, there was a knock on his door, and he hopped up to open it. Noct stood in the doorway, wearing black sweatpants and a huge black hoody that swamped him and made him look like a child. He had his hands shoved in his pockets. “I’m gonna sit in the other room and watch a movie. You don’t have to stay in there all night you know. You can join me if you’d like.”

He grinned and set the book down on the bed. “Sure,” he smiled. “I always enjoy your royal pre-release movie privileges…”

He received a smirk in response before Noct turned and slouched into the living room, flopping down on the sofa with a massive sigh. He seemed to crumple a bit as he hit the cushions, the clothes drowning his slender frame, especially as Gladio eased himself down next to him, seeming too big and too bulky and altogether out of place next to him.

While Noctis scrolled through the movie options, he turned to Gladio and said, “Ignis said you’re gonna be stepping up your shield duties now…?”

“Yup,” he said. “They figured it was time I started keeping an eye on you around the palace too now.”

Noct hit ‘ok’ and selected a film without asking Gladio what he wanted to watch. He didn’t mind anyway. A smile graced the corners of Noct’s infinitely delicate lips. “I’m glad.”

That was all he offered on the subject, but Gladio’s chest swelled unexpectedly with pride.

Noct, predictably, didn’t make it even a quarter of the way through the film before he dozed off. Gladio looked around during a deafening action sequence to see the young prince with his eyes closed, lashes brushing on his porcelain cheeks, soft lips barely parted, breathing gently. The remote was on the arm of the sofa on the far side of Noctis, and Gladio feared the noise would wake him, but also that if he shifted his enormous weight too much that too would disturb him. He extended his arm tentatively over the sleeping prince, and grabbed the remote, relief washing though him as he turned the volume down.

The prince took a sharper inhale and shuffled, and Gladio froze, worried he had in fact disturbed him, but Noctis only repositioned himself in his sleep, his head lolling over to one side and coming to rest on Gladio’s enormous tattooed shoulder. He couldn’t believe how soft the prince’s hair was as it brushed against his skin. The prince sighed again and ground his cheek into Gladio with a little moan. His dark eyebrows twitched and Gladio realised there was a section of his stupid hairstyle flopping into his eyes and tickling his face.

With a delicacy and tenderness he rarely got the chance to display, Gladio reached across with the hand that wasn’t clamped to his side by Noctis’ sleeping body, and swept it back. He thought he saw Noctis smile, but part of him hoped he was just imagining it.

Noct didn’t wake until the end of the film, but even then, he only half stirred. “Gladdy?” he murmured sleepily. He had shifted so that his head now actually lay in Gladio's lap.

“I’m here,” he said, smiling fondly at the childhood name he hadn’t heard from Noctis in years. He had to fight the urge to stroke Noct's soft, thick, black hair. His fingers twitched.

“Mmm,” the hummed vaguely from the border between waking and sleeping.

“You gonna make me carry you to bed, princess?” he asked with a laugh, expecting the very idea of it would rouse him enough to get him to reject it. But it didn’t.

“Mmhmm,” he nodded.

“Highness?” Gladio asked, looking down at the figure beside him. From what he could see, the prince suddenly looked very young and vulnerable, cuddled up to him, one arm now actually lying across Gladio’s enormous thigh, fingers curled protectively. He didn’t get a response, so he stood carefully, holding Noctis from falling with a huge arm. He scooped him up for the second time that evening and marvelled again at how light he was. He knew he was built like an ox, but there was no way Noctis should be this light. “You gonna take that hoody off before you settle down?” he asked as he nudged the bedroom door open with his toe.

“Mmm.”

“That didn’t sound very convincing to me,” Gladio grumbled fondly as he sat the prince down on his bed.

“You do it,” the prince muttered, eyes still closed, slender eyebrows furrowed in a rather petulant expression.

He laughed warmly and said, “Arms up.”

Obediently the prince raised his arms and let Gladio draw the thick hoody off his body. Underneath he wore a black t-shirt and his arms looked slimmer than the shield remembered. He frowned.

“You got to stand up a minute while I pull the covers back,” he said.

“Mmm,” the prince moaned, eyes still shut. He didn't move.

“Fine, either you lie on top all night and get sick, and Ignis flays me alive in the morning, slowly, and with much deliberation, or I put you in a fireman’s lift while I pull the duvet back for you.”

“That one,” he said, his words soft and woolly with sleep.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he chuckled. He hoisted the prince over his shoulder and tried not to touch him anywhere inappropriate, pulled the duvet back, and then lowered him back down. The moment his head hit the pillow he curled into a tight little ball and fumbled behind him for the corner of the covers. “Here,” Gladio smiled, tucking the prince up like he was a small child. “I’ll be next door…”

“…if I need you,” the prince finished sleepily. “Got it.”

“Night.”

“Mmm.”

He did his final checks of the apartment, securing locks and doors, checking rooms, and making sure that empty corners were in fact empty, and then returned to his little bedroom. He lay awake a long time, but he must have dozed off eventually because he awoke with a start, hearing a soul-rending scream from the next room. He flew to his feet and into Noct’s bedroom, where he saw the prince thrashing in the sheets, sweat soaking his skin, his chest pumping in rapid, shallow breaths. The door banged back off the wall as he charged over to be at the prince’s side.

“Hey, highness,” he said, reaching for his shoulder. “Wake up, it’s ok. It’s ok.”

With another cry that froze Gladio’s blood in his veins, Noctis sat bolt upright, eyes wide and staring.

“Hey, it’s me. You’re ok.”

He backed away from him, cowering, whimpering, his feet and hands scrambling desperately over the sheets.

“Hey, it’s me, it’s Gladio,” he said, trying to urge him gently back his senses, his touch light but firm on his shoulder.

Noctis froze. “Gladio?” he quizzed, blinking a couple of times. The depth returned to his eyes and he fixed his face on his friend. “Gladio?” his voice trembled.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “It’s me. You’re safe. It’s over now.”         

To his surprise, the prince leapt at him and threw his arms around him, knocking the wind from him. He was soaked in sweat as though they’d been training for hours, and his little heartbeat was pounding as Gladio laid a huge hand on his back and tried to comfort him. Then he realised the panting wasn’t panting. The prince was in tears.

“Hey, shh,” he soothed. “It’s alright. You’re alright. I won’t let anything hurt you. I’m here. I’m always here.”

“But you’re not,” the prince gasped.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re not always here. You can’t be. You have other duties.”

“My first duty is always to you, highness,” he said, a stab of guilt searing in his chest.

“Don’t leave me,” Noctis pleaded.

Gladio frowned. Normally the prince was sullen, bratty even, but never needy, never clingy. He had always rejected help, comfort, warmth, shrugging it off the way he shrugged everything off, from the formality of court to the advice of his elders. “I’m not gonna leave you, Noct,” he said gently.

He stroked his hair and tried to calm him. It took a long time, but when his breathing settled back down, Noct looked up. His face was pale with blotches of red where he’d been crying, and his hair was all over the place. He looked a right royal mess. Gladio smiled fondly to hide his concern.

The prince sighed and sat back, crossing his legs and leaning his weight on his knees. “I need a shower,” he said, his blue eyes downcast, fixed on the damp sheets.

“I’ll sort all this out while you’re in the bathroom,” Gladio said. Ignis' story about him fainting in the shower resurfaced in his mind, but as much as he didn't like the idea of Noct passing out cold, he couldn't suggest that he come with him and hold his hand.

“You sure?” Noct asked. “You’re my shield, not my chambermaid…”

“I could always get the outfit, if it please your highness,” he smirked.

The wicked grin that split Noct’s tired face lifted both their hearts and Noct began to laugh. It had been a long time since he’d heard him laugh like that, and it did them both good to hear it. “Gladio,” Noct chuckled as he slid off the bed. “What would I do without you?”

“Crash and burn, highness. Crash and burn,” he said, also standing and preparing to strip the sheets off.

When Noct returned ten minutes later, the bed was freshly made and the duvet pulled back ready for him. Gladio wasn’t there, and the prince called out for him as he climbed into bed. Three seconds later, the shield was in the room. He had black Crownsguard sweatpants on, but he was barechested.

“Highness?”

Noct looked shyly at him, seeming a little lost in the enormous bed. “Gladio, I know this is going to sound childish, and I promise you I won’t ever ask you this again, but…” he sighed and began to fiddle with the top of the duvet. “When I was on the sofa earlier, I fell asleep without realising it. When you picked me up, I felt so safe. Then you went, and it was… I felt so alone… Would… Will you stay?”

“You want me to sleep in here?” he asked. When Noctis gave a nod, he said, “Sure. I’ll bring a blanket in.”

“No…” Noctis said. “Will you stay _here_?” he asked, eyeing the other pillow.

“Oh. Ok.”

“You don’t mind?”

“Not at all. I want you to sleep. Whatever you need, I’m here.”

“Thanks.” Noctis stayed sitting up, and Gladio sensed he wanted to add something. “You remember when we were kids? I know you hated me to begin with back then, but after that night when Iris got lost and things got better between us, you used to sleep over here sometimes.”

A warm smile broke over Gladio’s face at the memories.

“You used to share my bed back then. I’ve never slept better than I did on those nights.”

“I’m glad,” he said. “I’ll just grab a shirt.” When he returned, he saw that Noct was lying on his side, back facing the spare half of the bed. He paced silently across the room and pulled back the duvet before sliding in beside him.

The sheets were chilly and as he lay on his back, one arm thrown up over his head, he saw Noctis tuck himself up tighter, curled protectively into a ball. Gladio felt the bed move a little bit, just like when they were children. Except that they weren’t children any more. He was an adult, with adult feelings and needs now. He hoped nothing happened in the night because of the way he felt these days. Heck, he’d felt like this for the prince for as long as he’d known what it meant to have those kinds of feelings.

Dawn light crept around the cracks in the curtains and Gladio’s well-tuned body clock stirred him from a deep sleep. There was a strange pressure on his chest and he blinked, about to sit up, when he remembered where he was. The mass of black hair in his face, the sleeping weight of Noctis’ head nuzzled against his shoulder, and the pale arm slung across his huge torso certainly surprised him though.

There was also the issue of Noct’s right leg lying not-so-innocently over his own, dangerously close to where Gladio had grown achingly hard. With monster morning wood, he was not keen for the prince to wake. Luckily, the prince could sleep through a herd of dual horn galumphing through the room, but he still froze in place, heart hammering nervously at the thought of moving and the prince waking to find him fully hard and aching. 

Then the prince gave a moan and stirred against him. He shuffled his lean body even closer to Gladio’s, his fingers scrunching his dark shirt, and he was surprised to feel that the prince was hard as well where he was pressed tight against his leg. Not just morning hard, but truly hard as well. Noctis moved his hips suggestively, sighing, grinding himself into Gladio, his breath hot on Gladio’s chest, even through the fabric of his shirt. And then, with his eyes still closed and lips parted, he rolled his hips again in a long, slow, deliberate rut against his thigh. The tent in Gladio’s boxers strained to be released. This could not go on.

He lifted Noct’s arm off him and slithered carefully out from the prince’s clingy grasp. He heard a groan of displeasure leave the prince as he rolled onto the spot which Gladio had just vacated, but Noctis didn’t wake fully. Gladio bolted for the bathroom and reached for a the lock, turning it with a scramble of shaking fingers.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part two. Gladio dives for the shower, returns to catch Noctis in an 'interesting' position, and spends the rest of the chapter horribly conflicted. More flexi Noct, and a good old princely tantrum at the end. This chapter happened because I think Gladio deserves a bit of very mild torture.

In the privacy of the shower, Gladio found release with almost alarming swiftness, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to look at the prince for the rest of the day without feeling a rushing mess of emotions. He was his Six-damned shield. This was not appropriate.

When he returned to his room, half dressed, with his long, dark hair still wet from the shower, he heard a small whimpering coming from the prince’s room and pressed his eye to the crack in the slightly open door in case Noctis needed to be woken from another nightmare.

Instead, to his surprise, he saw that the prince was doing exactly what he’d just been doing in the shower, only he had Gladio’s pillow clutched against him, half covering his chest. He knew he shouldn’t watch, that it was a huge invasion of his prince’s privacy, but god, he looked so beautiful. His soft lips were parted, little delicate panting breaths leaving his chest, his eyes rolled shut, his head thrown back, his hand moving quickly and evenly beneath the duvet that was half thrown back to counter the heat that must be coming off his torso. His chest and stomach were tightly-corded bands of lean muscle, and his pale skin gleamed like silver in the dim light of morning.

The sounds that the prince was making, or more accurately that he was trying _not_ to make, were enough to drive Gladio back into a state of high arousal again, but he couldn’t tear himself away. He had to watch the prince come.

As he reached a rapid fever with one hand, the prince flung his other hand out at the pillow as it began to slither off him, his back arching a bit, and he drew the pillow close to his face again. As he buried his nose in it, he gave a grunt, his hips lurched, and his shoulders rose off the mattress. He came hard into his hand and Gladio ached to know what lay beneath the covers. Noct’s hips were still twitching as he lay back down into his own pillow and pushed Gladio’s aside to reveal the beautiful, slack-jawed expression of a man completely spent. The white of his teeth flashed behind his parted lips and he lay there, breathing hard, for a long time.

What he wouldn’t give to have kissed that man right then? Gladio backed silently away from the door, his own cock straining once again at his boxers, but he didn’t have time to do anything about it. And he felt six kinds of wrong just for thinking about it.

He turned away and finished getting dressed before heading back out into the sitting room area. His eye was caught by the divot in the sofa cushion where Noctis had laid his head the night before, and he smiled. Shaking himself again, he moved to the little galley kitchen that was accessed by the single door near the fireplace, and ran the tap to get some water. Drinking it too quickly, he gave himself a brain freeze, his sensitive teeth pulsing with pain at the cold liquid. It did a little to help cool the fire that seeing Noctis like that had kindled in him.

Questions chased themselves round his brain like a dog chasing its tail. Without the fact that Noctis had been clutching Gladio’s pillow, the act would just have been a young man relieving a natural morning need, but that other fact changed things. Did he think of Gladio the way Gladio thought of him? Could he? He was betrothed to Lady Lunafreya. He couldn’t be thinking of his shield that way. He was pretty sure Regis and his father, close though they were, were not _that_ close. Gods, this was a mess.

Noctis came out a while later, dressed casually. “Hey,” he said, his voice gravelly with sleep and a bit deeper than usual.

“Morning,” Gladio said with a shaky smile. He suddenly couldn’t rid his mind of the sight of Noctis, hips bucking, and the sound of that sweet voice grunting softly as he came into his own hand.

Noctis frowned briefly, then flopped onto the sofa. “You know,” he said, his head rolling casually backwards to look at Gladio who now stood behind him. “I slept better last night than I have in months. Thank you.”

“I’m glad.”

Noct’s blue eyes clouded over and he muttered, “I hope it wasn’t too awful… you know…”

“Not at all,” he said lightly. “You know me, I’ll sleep anywhere.”

“That wasn’t quite what I meant…”

“Oh?”

“Well…” Noctis sighed. “We’re not kids anymore. You know… we’ve got… other responsibilities…”

Gladio had been struggling to find a response when there was a knock at the door and they both looked up to see Ignis entering. “Iggy,” he said in surprise. “I thought you were taking a leave of absence this week?”

“I was,” he said tersely. “But your father requested my return.”

“Why?” Noctis asked.

“He’s concerned about your health.”

“I’m –“

Ignis cut him off sharply. “I swear to the Six, Noctis, if you say you’re fine one more time, I’m going to stick you with one of those daggers myself. You are not fine.” He pushed his glasses up his nose and inspected him more closely. “Although you appear to have some of the colour back in your cheeks this morning.”

“What I was _going_ to say,” the prince retorted, “Was that I’m feeling a lot better today. I actually slept well last night.”

“No terrors?”

“Just the one,” he said. “But Gladio was there, and I asked him to stay. I slept much better with him there.”

Gladio blushed furiously under Ignis’ scrutiny. “You slept with the prince?”

 _Gods, don't put it like that_. “Just… like… on the other side… you know… in case he had another one… He asked me to,” he flustered.

Ignis wore a strange expression for another few moments, and then smiled. “Well, I’m glad it seems to have improved your sleep, highness.”

Noctis stretched his long limbs out languorously like a cat, his hoody riding up to reveal his bare stomach above the waistband of his jeans for a moment. The shield had to look away. Then Noctis relaxed and said, “You won’t tell anyone, will you Ignis? I don’t want Gladio getting in trouble because of something I asked him to do.”

Gladio was strangely touched and reassured by the prince’s request, and tried not to look too pleading as he turned his gaze on Ignis too. Ignis only gave a warm chuckle and said, “On my honour, your highness, Gladio…” bowing ever so slightly to each of them as he addressed them. “Would you like me to prepare some breakfast since I’m here? If there's nothing in your fridge, I can send for some food from the palace kitchens.”

“Ugh,” the prince complained, slumping despondently into the back of the sofa. He looked positively sickened at the thought of food. “It’s always cold when it comes from there. Work your magic with whatever’s in the fridge here. I know you could boil a dish rag and make it taste good, Iggy.”

Ignis’ laugh was somewhat self-satisfied and he stalked into the kitchen to see what he could make them. “Aha! We’re in luck,” he exclaimed. “A new box of eggs and six rashers of bacon. And even some orange juice. The order I put in must have been delivered up here yesterday while we were out. That _is_ good.” And within no time at all there was the sound of happy clattering and clanging from the other room.

Gladio chuckled and sat down heavily on the sofa beside a gently dozing Noctis. “Oi, highness,” he said, digging him gently in the ribs. “No napping now.”

The prince lazily batted him aside without opening his eyes.

“Eyes open, highness,” Gladio chided.

“Ugh…”

“I’ll eat your breakfast if you sleep through it…”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

The prince’s blue eyes flashed open. “Not a chance.”

With Gladio ‘booked in’ to spend the next week on what the Crownsguard affectionately called ‘Prince Watch’, he had mixed feelings about his nights after that first morning. The prince would study with Ignis in the mornings, attend council sessions with his father in the afternoon, and train with Gladio in the evening. As Gladio was now officially invited to all the super fun sessions in the council chamber, he got to see a new side of the prince.

Instead of being bratty and whiney, he sat quietly, listening to his father and to Cor while they spoke, only offering an opinion when it was asked of him, and always looking at Ignis before he spoke. He seemed so young, and yet the set of his shoulders, the stack of his spine was as regal as that of his father sitting at the head of the table. Gladio found himself admiring him, and not just for his looks.

After that first council meeting with Noct, a gruelling four hour argument about a sliding scale for taxing the different regions of the crown city, Gladio walked beside Noctis as he left the chamber, and cracked his neck and shoulders. He and Noctis noticed they were both doing the same thing at the same time, and exchanged knowing looks and a quick laugh. “So, welcome to the lofty world of royal politics,” Noctis said dryly.

“I’m sorry,” Gladio said as they headed out into the sunlight for the first time that day.

Noctis stopped on the massive flight of steps which led to the main entrance of the palace and looked up at him. “What for?”

“I’m sorry I underestimated what you have to do.” He bowed his head a little, partly to hide his blush and partly to avoid meeting Noctis’ searingly blue eyes. He still saw flashes of that morning whenever he looked at him.

Noctis began to laugh again and punched him affectionately on his massive arm before skipping lightly down the stairs away from him. “Now you know why I’m late for training so often, big guy. It really _isn’t_ my fault…”

He snorted and picked up his pace to catch up with the prince before he got too far ahead. “Yeah.”

"So come on then. Let's go train, and you can kick my arse repeatedly for an hour."

"I'm not in the best form after all that..." Gladio grinned. "You might land a hit this time?"

"Who knows... Chocobos might fly long haul..."

Noctis was positively cheerful for the whole of the rest of the week. In their final training session on Friday evening, as Gladio tipped him to the ground for the eighth time that hour, he let out a long, loud peel of laughter as he flopped onto his back, spreading his arms out and slapping his palms down onto the mats of the training arena floor. "Ok, I yield. Enough," he said, and there was a command hiding behind the flippant tone. He was bone tired.

"Alright," Gladio said. "You did well though. You wanna stretch?"

"Mmm," Noctis smiled. "Please."

Gladio was pleased to see that Noctis seemed to like stretching as much as Gladio liked helping him.

"I want to try something," Noct said. "You're tall, so it'll give me a good stretch."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. It's been a while since I've been able to stretch my hips out. I find all this sitting on my royal ass makes me tense, and even when we do all your brutal kick drills it doesn't ease out the tension."

"What do you want me to do?" Gladio asked warily.

"You remember when your dad taught me to do side kicks, back when we were both learning, and he started by getting us to stretch each other’s legs?"

Gladio swallowed. He remembered that one alright. "You want to put your foot on my shoulder?" he asked tentatively. "You sure you're flexible enough for that?"

"Start low and straighten up. I'm not sure I'm 'six foot five' flexible, but we'll see."

Gladio tried to swallow again, but it got stuck. "Your feet better not stink, Noct," he quipped, resorting to his defence mechanism as he crouched to take Noct's leg.

The prince only grinned and said, "I'm royalty. Of course my feet stink," as he placed his foot in the crook of Gladio's neck where it met his trapezius muscle. "But you're not allowed to comment on it."

Gladio stood slowly, gauging the prince's reaction to the stretch carefully, watching for flashes of pain, but they never showed. The prince stood in a side kick position, one foot turned a hundred and eighty degrees away from Gladio, his torso side on, and his other foot resting horizontally on Gladio’s muscled shoulder.

The prince gave a moan of pleasure, one hand on the wall to steady himself, as the stretch deepened.

"Holy fuck," Gladio hissed as he stood up straight with Noct's foot on his shoulder. "You are flexible!"

Noctis laughed and leaned into the stretch as Gladio straightened up fully. "So I am 'Six foot five flexible' after all." He held it for a couple of minutes and then said, "Ok, that's enough."

He repeated it on the other side, but warned Gladio he wasn't as flexible this side. Gladio still nearly managed to stand up straight, though not quite this time, and he could hardly keep his mind off the fact that his huge hands were wrapped around Noct's delicate ankle while the prince leaned into him, crotch very obviously open to him, making noises that were probably more than a little south of decent. He was used to being close to men in the training arena, used to grappling, to fighting, to sparing, even to stretching, but this was something else entirely for him.

When the prince was stretched, Gladio excused himself as quickly as was decent, and went to the showers next to the prince’s private changing room. He was more flustered than he was prepared to let Noctis see. As he turned the dial and stepped straight under the jet of water, he let out a bellow of surprise as freezing water speared down and lanced over his pounding body. "Fuck!" he yelped, hopping out.

"Gladio?" The prince's shout was much too near. Gladio wasn't wearing anything and, despite the blast of cold water, he was still _very_ hard.

"Highness, it's fine!" he yelled. "There's no hot water in this one. Don't come in -"

But the prince _had_ come in. And he had seen Gladio completely naked with a raging erection. Gladio whipped around, covering himself and facing away from him as Noctis snorted. "You're a worse prude than Ignis!" he scoffed. "I'll go see if mine has hot water. If it does, you can use that."

"It's fine. I'll shower at home."

"No," Noctis said. "You'll warm up first. Or you'll get sick. I'm not having you getting sick on my watch." And then he left.

 _On his watch?_ That was Gladio's phrase.

The prince’s shower was freezing as well, and when he returned to tell him, Gladio was already back in his Crownsguard sweats and sweaty tank. Noctis made a face of disgust at the idea he’d climbed back into dirty clothes, and said, “Come use the showers in my apartment.”

“My dad’s expecting me home for family dinner tonight,” Gladio hedged.

Noct scowled. “You’ve shared my bed all week, and you’re getting funny about sharing my shower now that I’ve seen you butt naked for the first time?”

Gladio spoke without thinking. “Noct, when you say I’ve shared your bed, it’s not like we _slept_ together,” he corrected, blushing.

The prince shuffled his feet and scowled again. “Fine,” he blurted. “Get sick then.” He turned on his heel and flounced out of the locker room, leaving Gladio confused, and with a mess of emotions broiling in his huge chest.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, here's the last bit. Time skip to a year later, Gladio's still pining, Noct's still a bratty, flexible prince, and gets his way as usual.  
> No smut in this one, but a bit of action anyway. Hope you enjoyed my odd little idea!

It was late and Gladio was restless.

He’d received a beautiful greatsword from his father, and earned himself a massive facial scar, both on his twentieth birthday a month earlier. He replayed the events as he ran his fingertip down the new scar while he crossed the citadel. Noctis had insisted on taking them all to a club, incognito, in Lucis, and some guy had got fresh with them, and, well, it had ended in a knife fight. Gladio was proud he’d managed not to hurt the other guy at all, but Noct was horrified that he’d taken such a hit for him. Gladio didn’t really mind. It’d be a daily reminder to himself of his duty to Noct when he looked in the mirror. Shield him. No matter the cost.

 _No matter the cost._ He sighed. His feelings for Noct had only intensified over the course of a year, but since the prince no longer had his night terrors, Gladio no longer slept in his bed. He mourned the loss of the closeness, but all things considered, it was probably for the best.

He strode through the citadel and found his feet taking him on autopilot to the training room across the courtyard. A frown flickered across his heavy brows. The lights shouldn’t have been on at that time of night. He pushed the door open, wondering if he’d find Ignis training with his dual knives.

There was a figure standing in the centre of the room, half way through what Gladio recognised instantly as one of the martial arts patterns. The young man was bathed in the soft light emanating from the floor lights around the edges of the room, the main lights dark above him.

It wasn’t Ignis.

Gladio hung back and watched, stunned, as he realised the figure was _Noctis_. Unnoticed by the prince, he found his eyes captivated by the fluid movements which fell in between whip-crack punches and kicks of the kata. Damn, he was _never_ this good in their training sessions. Noctis sank down in an elegant back-stance and brought his fists up into a double knife-hand block before lancing forward into an elbow strike, following it up with a back spinning kick that was elegant and lethal in equal measure.

The sight of him took Gladio’s breath away.

The reach and speed on that kick were breath-taking too. Not to mention the fact that he was wearing black compression shorts that looked like they’d been painted on him, and a sleeveless black vest. Yeah, that didn’t help at all. At seventeen, his figure was fuller now that he was eating and sleeping properly, though he was still lean and lithe as a sapling.

When he finished the pattern, Noct gave the shout that signalled the end of the series of movements, and he held the final stance in perfect, rigid stillness, breathing hard. His voice was a hoarse, husky tenor, and there was a calm composure to it that Gladio had never heard before. Where was his whiney, bratty prince? Sweat gleamed on Noctis’ temple and made his soft shirt cling to his body in all the right places. Gladio licked his lips nervously.

Still silent in the shadows, he watched as Noctis relaxed out of the final stance and leaned forward to stretch his hamstrings out by touching his toes. Except he wasn’t touching his toes. He was too flexible for that, and instead put the flat of his hands on the soft, grippy mats of the training hall. Then he braced his weight on his hands and pulled himself up into a handstand by his stomach and back muscles, holding his body in a perfect unwavering vertical line.

Gladio’s amber eyes almost bulged. He had no idea the prince could do any of this. Why didn’t he train like this with him? Even Gladio found it hard to hold a handstand without a wobble or a tremor, but then again there was so much of him. After dipping into a couple of admittedly shaky press-ups, Noctis slowly lowered his legs down over his head in a slow-motion walkover like an acrobat, and straightened up with his back to Gladio.

Once on his feet again, he cracked his shoulders a bit and leaned forward once more and, still facing away from Gladio’s hiding place, sank slowly down into wide box splits. With his lean legs out to each side, he leaned forward and rested his elbows on the floor while keeping his hips open.

The loose, sleeveless shirt he was wearing fell forwards to the floor, revealing just a slither of pale, toned torso on each side, but it was the tight, hard lines of his bare shoulders mirroring the softer curve of his backside that made Gladio go a little weak at the knees. When he trained with Gladio in the day he wore loose sweatpants and a baggy, long-sleeved t-shirt, but now he looked like a gymnast. And he moved with the stealth and control of an assassin.

Gladio knocked softly on the door and stepped inside. Noctis jumped slightly and looked over his shoulder, beaming a smile at the older man. “Hey,” he said quietly, his voice a quiet rumble.

“Hey?” Gladio quizzed, striding over the mats and standing off to one side, trying hard not to stare. “What the hell is all this?”

Noctis gave an earthy chuckle but didn’t get up out of his stretch. “What do you mean?”

“This?” he said gruffly, gesturing to Noct’s long legs. “I saw your pattern,” he said. “Why don’t you move like that normally?”

Another laugh rolled out of him and he pushed his hips lower into the mat so that he was completely in contact with it. “I don’t like an audience, I guess,” he said shyly.

Gladio felt a blush sting his cheeks. “You want me to go now?”

Noct looked up askance at him and said, his blue eyes glittering, “No.” After another moment he moved his hands to where they’d be if he were doing a press-up, tensing his shoulders in a way that made Gladio have to look away, and, with a soft grunt, eased himself slowly out of the splits.

Except that unlike any normal person, he didn’t stand up at all. Beginning by lying on his stomach, he kept his arms braced, tensed his core, closed his legs, and drew himself up into a perfect handstand with precise, excruciatingly slow control. Despite the sweat sheening his skin, the black shirt slipped down to reveal his torso. Tight ribs of muscle adorned his abdomen, but from this new angle, Gladio got an eyeful of Noct’s bare back for the first time, and all the colour drained from his face.

A great big, old, knotted, silver scar slashed across the prince’s otherwise perfect skin, bisecting the strong column of his strong spine.

“Noct,” Gladio hissed, taking half a step backwards as he went weak all over. As his sworn shield and bodyguard, the sight of injuries that serious made his vision swim. He felt sick. And lightheaded. And angry.

The emotion in his tone shocked the prince out of his handstand and he folded efficiently in half and came up to look at him. “Gladio?” he asked, taking a step towards the hearty man who had suddenly gone white as paper. “Hey, what’s wrong? My form that bad?”

For a moment he couldn’t speak. Then he croaked, “Your back.”

The prince’s face softened as the worry drained out of him. “Oh,” he said, reaching absentmindedly beneath the shirt and rubbing his hand over the lowest section of the gash. “You knew about this,” he scolded playfully.

“No. I didn’t.” His voice was harsh as sandpaper on silk.

“Yes you _did_ ,” Noctis grinned. “And anyway, relax, it didn’t happen on your watch.”

“It’s _always_ my watch,” he snarled defensively. 

Noctis reached for Gladio’s shoulder and held him tightly in his strong, elegant hands. “And I love you for that, but it was that demon, Marilith, Gladio. I was eight. You weren’t my shield then.” His dark blue eyes were very big and very serious as they bored into the bright gold irises of Gladio’s.

“Oh,” he said, his voice still shaking. Hearing the prince say ‘ _I love you_ ’ had also made him shiver. “By the Six, Noct, I knew you were hurt, but I had no idea you’d sustained that kind of injury,” he said.

The prince sighed and turned away from his shield, stretching his shoulder out absentmindedly. Flexing his arm a little, he opened up a bit about it. “The damage to my spine was the worst,” he said. “Ignis’ father maxxed me out on elixirs trying to heal the spinal cord. I couldn’t have any more to heal the rest of it, but he made the right decision. I was still out of commission for months though. That's why dad took me to Tenebrae... to see if they could patch me up...” He sighed.

When Gladio didn’t respond, Noctis turned on the ball of his foot like a dancer, glancing back at him with his deep blue eyes, and the way he moved knocked the wind out of his shield for what felt like the hundredth time that evening. “You’re different like this,” Gladio finally muttered.

Noctis laughed a loud, cheeky laugh and sprang, carefree, into a back handspring like a court jester, ending in a bow. “Didn’t you tell me just yesterday to come up with something to take you off-guard?”

“How do you know how to do all this?” he said. “It’s not something I’ve taught you…”

“I’ve always done it,” he said, tipping forward and executing a walkover with slow control, finishing the movement and coming up very close to Gladio’s face. “Ever since I was a kid. I used to do it in here with your dad, and my dad would come and watch me.” He smiled, his face going distant for a moment. “When I was hurt, I thought I’d never be able to do it again, but after I got better I started to do the drills and stretches we’d done back then, but without your dad this time. He got too busy to teach the prince tumbling tricks like that. I dunno,” he said with a shy smile, “I love it.” He finished with a shy smile and blinked a couple of times.

“I’m gonna go a bit harder on you in training now, you know?”

Noct smirked but didn’t speak.

“So just how flexible are you _really_ then?” Gladio asked, the colour beginning to return to his cheeks.

“Want to help me stretch and find out?” Noctis asked, his smirk widening to a grin.

Gladio frowned, unsure if he trusted himself not to react indecently.

“Gladio?” Noctis was still standing very close to him.

So close that the shield could see his own face reflected in the prince’s dark blue eyes. He swallowed nervously. “Ok.”

Noctis laughed and tipped backwards into another carefree backflip, but instead of landing on his feet, he opened his legs upon landing and dropped into a wide splits.

“Geez, Noct, you’re gonna rip something,” he muttered testily.

Noct’s blue eyes dropped to Gladio’s crotch and he raised an eyebrow. “I’m not the only one in danger of ripping something,” he said archly.

“By the Six, Noct,” Gladio said, turning away and running his hand through his hair while the prince’s laughter rang long and loud around the room, carefree as a bird.

“It’s ok, Gladio,” Noct chortled finally. “I told you that before… Last year…”

Suddenly there were hands on Gladio’s shoulders. The prince had risen silently out of the splits and was now pressing his whole body against Gladio’s broad back. Was that… was he growing hard too? Noct moved his hands down the bigger man’s torso and looped his arms around Gladio’s waist, his fingers tugging his shirt up so that he could run his hands over Gladio’s abs. He gave a low purr and then pulled teasingly back off him.

Gladio’s heart thundered out a rhythm against his ribs and he turned to watch the prince saunter over to the bars on the wall at one end of the gym. He swung his leg up in a front kick and snagged it on a bar, doing a perfect vertical split. He glanced over his shoulder and said, “Come behind me and apply a bit of pressure will you? I can’t do it by myself.”

“Noct,” he warned, not taking a single step towards him. The prince’s ass looked so perfect in those compression shorts, his legs so lean and wiry, yet his feet were bare and vulnerable. Gladio could barely stand on his own two feet, let alone _think_ at the sight of him. _You’re a fucking tease._

“Gladio…” Noct’s tone was gently chiding, with a hint of playful frustration. “Get over here and stretch me will you?”

Gladio closed his eyes, struggling not to imagine those words in an entirely different context. Did the prince know that? When he met Noctis’ gaze, he saw that the prince knew full-well that his thoughts had kept pace with Gladio’s perfectly.

He strode over to him and put his hands on Noctis’ waist, one booted foot on either side of Noct’s bare one on the ground. Then he began to lean his enormous weight gently against the prince’s body, feeling him flex like a longbow beneath him. Noctis gave a grunt of pleasure and moved his hands up the leg that was pushed up the wall.

Gladio moved his left foot forward to stabilise him as he leaned further and further into the prince, knowing that the prince would feel just how hard he was. “Noct,” he whispered as his face drew near the prince’s neck.

“Mmm?”

“How long have you…?”

“Carried a torch for you?” he finished with a laugh. “Since always.” He paused and then chuckled, “Have you really not realised before now?”

His answer was simple. “No. I never really dared…” Though the morning he had found Noct with his pillow pressed to his face had haunted his dreams on and off for a year.

“What about your nights on Prince Watch?” he asked.

Gladio blushed. “I didn't know you knew we called it that…”

“It's my job to know things about my subordinates,” he grinned, pushing his ass cheeks back just a fraction into Gladio’s body.

“That what we are? Just subordinates?” the shield returned, circling one of those cheeks with the rough palm of his hand.

“You know full well how grateful... that it’s more than that,” Noctis snapped, his voice darkening and becoming suddenly harsh as a whip-crack. “You know how my father and I feel about your family’s dedication to us.”

Gladio smiled and rubbed his hands a little across the prince’s lower back, drawing a moan from him.

“And for your attention to detail, Gladio…”

Gladio smiled and returned his hand to Noct’s ass.

Noctis laughed and twitched his head to ask him to back off so he could switch legs. When the other one was up he winced a bit and said, “Tighter on this side. Be careful.”

“Always.”

Noct grinned. “I know.”

When he brought his other leg down, he turned around with Gladio’s hands still on his waist and stared him straight in the eye. “I’m not used to seeing you like this,” Gladio said after a while.

“Like what?”

He could barely take his eyes off the prince’s lips. They were so soft looking he wanted to crush his own into them right then and there before they could articulate any more words. But he enjoyed watching them move so much he didn’t know whether he wanted to watch them speak or shut them up.

“Like what, Gladio?” he pressed.

“So…” _god-damned sexy_. “Uh…” All his words suddenly evaporated off his tongue.

“Alright, guessing game then is it?” the prince said, arching an eyebrow. “Relaxed?” He knew that wasn’t what Gladio meant. “Forward? Pushy?”

“No,” he rasped. “Self-assured, coy…”

Noctis gave a fluttering laugh and then Gladio found the prince’s lips on his own.

He was right, they were soft. Softer than sin. But strong too, and hungry. Noctis grabbed Gladio’s long hair and shoved him harder into the kiss, his teeth catching Gladio’s lower lip in a playful bite before releasing it in a tingling rush as the blood flowed back to that spot again, making it throb. Noct’s tongue crept out and he fleetingly pushed it against Gladio’s lips. Gladio opened his mouth and let his prince taste him while he did the same, exploring him. He found that they were falling backwards and had crashed into the wooden rails on the wall behind Noct.

The prince let out a gasp that wasn’t entirely disgruntled as his back connected with the bars behind him and Gladio braced one arm on the wall, the other sheltering Noctis’ head from smacking into the rail behind. They broke their kiss for a moment and Noctis hissed, “I want you, Gladio.”

“Here?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“What do you want?”

“I want you in my bed. I want that perfect body of yours in my royal bed, naked, and I want you to worship every inch of me.”

Gladio’s knees were weak. “I can do that,” he said.

“Good,” Noctis grinned, jerking his chin towards the exit. “So let’s get going.”

He ducked under Gladio’s arm, leaving him breathless, and sauntered to the side of the room to where he’d left a pile of belongings. “You’re a fucking tease, highness,” he panted.

Noctis only smirked again and stuffed his beautiful legs in to some baggy sweatpants that hung rather suggestively on his hips, and then grumbled something to himself.

“What is it?” Gladio asked, coming over to him.

“I forgot my hoody,” he said.

Gladio ripped his own off over his head and handed it to him. “Have mine.”

“You sure? I don’t want my shield to get sick,” he said as he took it from him.

“You’re all sweaty,” he reasoned. “I’m not.”

“Not yet…” the prince countered, drawing a groan from Gladio’s throat.

And as Gladio flicked the lights off and slammed the door behind him, he paused to watch the prince walk across the courtyard away from him, his stride casual and carefree, as though it were any other night of the year, as though nothing had just happened back there.

Gladio, on the other hand, could barely put one foot in front of the other, what with the pulsing heat in his groin and the pounding in his chest, and the fact that his boxers had become entirely too tight. “Hey, Noct, wait up,” he called.

“Come on, big guy,” he called nonchalantly over his shoulder. And then, for all the world to hear, the prince added, “Let’s see just how big you really are.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. This was an odd little idea that popped into my head when I saw Noctis do a very graceful backflip in combat, and it got me thinking. This happened. 
> 
> Kudos and comments always gratefully received, but I'm just happy you popped by :D


End file.
